Rabbit
by Foosemittee
Summary: Beauty leaves her Beast shortly after their marriage. When she becomes a village midwife and is forced to care for a supposedly 'cursed' child, is it fate that brings her together with yet another monster? What is to become of this child in the wide world beyond?
1. Leaving

Now she tells me, he thinks, throwing his quill on the writing desk and turning to face his wife. She watches as sepia ink splatters over the worn mahogany.

"You're not the man I married," she says quietly, refusing to meet his eyes.

"You didn't marry a _man_," he snarls, pushing past her. "You married me for me, you said. For my _soul_, you said." He holds back tears that no gentleman would shed. "I am what you wanted now. Yet you pine away for what I used to be." He turns to face her. "For a monster."

"I could love a monster with a soul like yours," she replies softly. "The fact that you were a monster gave you an excuse."

"Fine," he growled. "Leave me, then." She keeps her eyes on the ground and her hands folded demurely as she walks out the door.

…

When I was born, the ravens cried, and the clock struck thirteen. My mother took one look at me…yellow-eyed, monster-like creature that I was, and gave me back to the midwife.

"Keep it," she muttered, thinking on the six children waiting in another room. "I can't afford another one, especially not cursed like it is." The midwife, a young widow who lived far outside of town, nodded politely and carried me to the door, where my father waited.

"Cursed?" he said quietly, making the word a question. The midwife nodded.

"With the evil eye," she replied. "You can see it." My father saw them then, my glowing cats' eyes, truly the eyes of the devil, and he nodded solemnly.

"Do your best with it yourself," he said decisively, "and we'll have the village priest say a mass for it."

"Sir, I'm not…" the woman protested as he practically pushed her out the door. "going to take…" she started to finish half-heartedly, staring at the closed door. "Damnation," she hissed.

…


	2. The Early Life of Rabbit

…

Rose never claimed to be my mother. I was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, she told me, and this had brought a curse on me for no reason other than the devil's love of mathematics. She called me Rabbit as a pet name, perhaps, or maybe because she never failed to find wild rabbits and hares in my bed. Warm, fluffy little things; she would kill them, sometimes, if we needed the meat. I used to cry and cry, thinking of how they trusted me to watch them, and how they were betrayed. I ate rabbit anyway, tears or no. Hunger always got the best of conscience, year in and year out. Later in my life, conscience was passed over for things like lust, comfort, and desire. No matter where I slept or even with whom, when I woke there were rabbits.

…

Townspeople called me a witch, or said I was cursed, or the devil incarnate. This was mostly in jest, because they hardly saw me enough to see the marks of my cursedness. My hair was black, and Rose said that both of my parents were as red-haired as the sun itself, from a long line of redheads, with nary a dark one among them. They lived in another village, I suppose, because I never did see a family of six daughters, all with fiery red hair. My eyes were yellow, as yellow as if they'd been plucked from a black cat and placed in my head by force. My skin was milky pale, and my lips were almost too red for my complexion. As a child, it made me an outcast. As a woman, it brought more men to my door than I knew what to do with. I had never been talked to by any of them, let alone romanced, but as I passed my fourteenth winter our door was never silent. First would come the knock, quiet and secretive.

"Helynna?" the masculine voice would call, diminutive and polite. I never got a Christian name, being cursed, but Rose gave me a 'formal name', for introducing myself with. I couldn't go about being called Rabbit, could I? They called me by a name I hardly answered to, standing in the cold outside my door, while Rose lit a fire in the hearth and I slept with the rabbits in my bed.

…


	3. Not You Again

Rose stood by the door, listening. A puff of steam burst through the gap, signaling the presence of something alive, something that breathed.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. In my lap a black rabbit sat, its ears held high, watching the entrance to the small cottage. Rose held a finger to her lips, glaring. I had broken the silence that we had been keeping since midmorning.

"Rose." It was a statement. There was a man at the door, asking after Rose. "I know you're here. We haven't spoken in nineteen years. At least you could open the door."

"Go away," she growled, grabbing the door handle and twisting it to make sure it was locked.

"Rose, it's taken me years to find you. I hear you have a daughter."

"She's not yours," she hissed, and I was a little shocked by her ferocity. "She's not even mine." I had a sinking feeling. Rose had never pretended to be my mother, but she had never denied me altogether.

"Open this door or I'll break it down," the man insisted, and there was a terrible cracking sound. Rose looked at me, angrier than I'd ever seen her.

"Rabbit, get yourself up to the loft, and make sure that you're not seen." Even as old as I was, at seventeen, I knew that to disobey her would have disastrous results. I did as she said and watched from behind a barrel.

Rose unlocked the door slowly, backing away from it when it was finally open. The man walked in, a stranger that looked like a prince. He was a fair individual, and dressed in furs and what I assumed to be silk.

"Rumors led me to this spot," he said quietly, looking around the room. "I'd have thought you'd be somewhere more populated."

"I know. That's why I'm here." Rose glared at him. He sighed.

"Why do you hate me, Rose?" he asked beseechingly. "I never did anything to you. _You _decided I'd changed to0 much for you after _you_ undid the enchantment. I could've sat in one spot without moving or talking and the story would stay the same."

"I like the way things are," she mumbled. "I like what I have here. It would be just wonderful if you'd kindly pick up your broken heart and take it out with you the way you came." He frowned.

"Rose, you can't expect me to just stand by while you raise a child in poverty," he insisted, looking around again, searching for me.

"That's a shame, because it's what you did. I _raised _a child, on my own, in 'poverty'. Oh, and let me remind you again that said former child was placed in my care by others. You have no claim to her, and neither do I. She's of marrying age and is old enough to make her own decisions. In fact, I was thinking she should learn a trade and make her own way. So. You can just go now, if _that's_ your reason for coming." As Rose stood facing him with her arms crossed, I crept down the ladder and stood behind her.

"Who is he?" I asked her, as the man stared at me in shock.

"He's an acquaintance of mine, and _I told you to stay in the loft._" she growled.

"I can make my own decisions, remember? And I _have _a trade," I grumbled, hurt by what she'd said earlier.

"You can't be the village whore forever," she snarled, "and I'm fairly sure you're not intelligent enough to know which decisions are yours to make." Pushing past her, I curtseyed in front of the stranger.

"I'm Helynna," I said politely. "My apologies," I mumbled, motioning towards Rose. "Who are you?"

"My name is Alan," the man replied. "I'm Rose's husband."

"Not anymore you're not," Rose muttered, sitting on the steps to the loft and glaring.

"Walking away doesn't make you the Pope, dear Rose, and so you cannot simply decide we're divorced."

"Don't engage," I advised, glancing at Rose. "If you can just tell me your purpose in coming here, I'm sure there would be far less hostility."

"I came here," he said helplessly, "because of you, of course."

…


	4. That's It and It's Over

Rose put her hands over her face and shook her head.

"Please, do explain," I said quietly, noting her distress. The man frowned and glanced past me at the woman who'd raised me.

"How old are you?" he asked, looking at me again. I smoothed my skirts and tried to remember.

"...this is my seven and tenth winter," I replied finally. "I think."

"I'd been here for three years when I took her in," Rose said quietly. "There's your proof." The man walked to rose, kneeling in front of her as she sat where she was.

"I know you no longer love me," he said softly, "but you deserve better than this…to live in the forest, treated as an outcast, called a witch…and I owe you the life you deserve. It does not have to be a life with me, but I cannot stand by knowing that you have had to sell off your daughter's virtue in order to survive. Return with me to your former home, and I will see that you both never want for something ever again."

"Whatever," Rose growled. "We'll go, if that's all you want."

"Rose?" I looked at her in surprise. I'd lived in the cottage all my life, and hardly knew anywhere better.

"That's it," she muttered. "It's over."

…


	5. Simple

"So," I started, looking at Rose. We sat, bundled in our furs, in the back of the carriage Alan had sent for us. "You're married."

"I suppose I am," she replied, frowning as the carriage went over a bump.

"Well?" I looked at her expectantly. "How did it happen, why did you leave?"

"You're too young to understand," Rose scoffed, turning away. "As to how I met him…" she glanced down at her feet. "I don't like to talk about it."

"Obviously not, seeing as this is the first I've heard of him," I muttered, crossing my arms and staring out at the winter landscape passing by.

"I left him for a good reason," Rose insisted. "And I saw no reason to tell you about it, because I thought I'd never see him again."

"Why did you leave him?" I inquired, turning back towards her. "He seems fairly decent."

"That's exactly true," she answered with a sigh. "He's boring, to put it plainly. There's absolutely nothing interesting about him. He used to be…well… It's not my place to say, but he really used to be different. Then he changed into this handsome, self-assured, reasonably wealthy young gentleman, and there was nothing about him that I could relate to. Flaws are the manifestation of one's humanity, and he lost his," she said quickly, looking at her hands. I stared, appalled. I'd always known that the woman who'd raised me was anything but perfect, but I'd never thought she could be cruel.

"That's horrible," I hissed. "What kind of woman leaves a man when he's changed specifically to become everything a wife could ever want?" She just looked at me and glared.

"You've always been simple, Rabbit," she growled. "Docile and simple. You wouldn't understand." I leaned forward, glaring with all my might, knowing I'd never been so mad.

"I wish I could be anywhere but here right now," I retorted. "Because the idea that you and I breathe the same air is nauseating to me."

…


	6. Roses

I stepped out of the carriage, taking note of the luxurious gardens surrounding us.

"Is this all really yours?" I asked in astonishment as Alan climbed down from the driver's seat of the carriage.

"Of course," he replied. "It's not much, I know, but it's home." Rose clambered out of the carriage and glared at our surroundings.

"Stupid roses," she growled, stomping into the house without bothering to remove her muddy boots. I looked and saw that there was a large glass greenhouse at the edge of the property. Inside this greenhouse, vibrant flowers grew in bursts of color.

"Roses?" I asked with interest, looking back towards Alan.

"I garden a lot," he answered embarrassedly. "It's a hobby."

"Can I…?" I started, looking hopefully towards the conservatory. Alan nodded, and I took off running.

…

When I reached the greenhouse, there was an overpowering scent of roses, and as I opened the door hot air rushed out around me. I heard someone whistling from behind the vines and stepped in to investigate.

"Hello?" I called out, wondering if Alan was rich enough to afford a gardener. "Is anyone there?"

Suddenly, a head peeked out from behind a vine-laden trellis.

"What?" an irritable voice growled. "I'm pruning." I tried to stop myself from giggling.

"Um…who are you?" I asked finally. The rest of the gardener appeared shortly. He was a rather tall gentleman with dark hair and eyes that looked almost black.

"I'm Jerome, and you're bothering the Albas," he growled, pointing at a cluster of white blooms which appeared to be shuddering. "Close the damn door." I obeyed, frowning.

"I'm…" I paused, nearly saying Rabbit. "Helynna." I looked around at the many colorful flowers surrounding me. "Are you Alan's gardener?" I asked, curious. Jerome nodded, scowling.

"That man never did care for roses," he confided, looking out at the house in the distance. "Then _that woman_ showed up and they were all that mattered. Do you know what it's like to _be_ a watering can?" he inquired suddenly, looking at me. "It's not so pleasant, let me tell _you_." Shaking his head, he took up a trowel and vanished into the bushes.

…


	7. Real People

…

I stood in front of the mirror. It was adorned with roses, just like everything else in the lavish manor. These roses were white and formed from porcelain, with pale green stems that wound around the white frame of the looking glass.

"See anything you like?" I turned, shocked. Behind me stood a young girl in a maid's uniform which was black, yet still embroidered with a single red rose. Her dark auburn hair was tied up in a braided bun, and her laughing grey eyes were trained on me. I blushed and stepped away from the instrument of vanity.

"I couldn't say," I replied. "I'm R—Helynna." I cursed my own thoughtlessness.

"I'm Annette Rideaux," she replied. "Rideaux is fine if you ever need to call me." Then, with a pleasantly ambivalent smile, she drifted off down the hall. Troubled, I walked to Rose's room, where she sat angrily staring out the window.

"Rose?" I sat down beside her.

"He'll be bringing in a governess next," she muttered, turning to me. "Then a piano instructor, a French tutor, a lady's maid… Do you remember what happens to captive rabbits?" Her stern look was reminder enough. It was the same look she'd given me on an especially cold winter night, just before a caged pet was to be executed in order to provide food. _If you wanted him to live, you should have left him out in the winter,_ she'd said. _Rabbits in houses are only temporary._

"We can't stay away from people forever," I insisted, shrugging off her warning. "There are real people here, Rose…not like those…" I bit my tongue rather than say _men_.

"Real?" Rose snapped with derision. "_Real_? Don't make me laugh." She sniffed. "I'll have to leave here eventually, Rabbit, with or without you." I nodded and left, ignoring her look of reproach.

…


	8. In Which Rabbit Follows the Flower Man

I glanced across the ebony table to see Rose glaring at a pudding.

"It's dessert, not an engagement ring," I muttered, handing my own empty plate to a nearby maid. Rose looked up at me with narrowed eyes. At the head of the table, Alan's chair was empty.

"Why does your master not join us?" Rose asked disdainfully, glancing at the manservant with the rather unusual mustache. "Has he forgotten how to treat guests?" His mustache twitched at the offense.

"Master Canavar is preoccupied. You, of all people, should know where he is." He gave her a knowing look. _Alan Canavar, _I thought to myself. _That is Rose's last name._

"You still call him that?" Rose grimaced. "I suppose he is a bit beastly, but I was assured—" she glanced at me "—that only I thought so."

"I…I'm going out," I announced, pushing my chair back before the servants could assist me. "Rideaux?" I called, looking about for the girl I had seen yesterday. She appeared from behind the tapestry that hid the door to the kitchens, smiling respectfully. "Would you be at liberty to accompany me to the gardens?" I asked. She nodded and followed me out. I bid her to wait at the entrance to the greenhouse while I stepped in cautiously.

"Master Alan?" I called, half expecting an answer.

"You'll not find his like in here," the gardener said quietly from just beside me, making me jump.

"Jerome," I grumbled, "you really shouldn't creep up on people like that. Where's Master Alan…and what do you mean, 'his like'?" I looked up at him with a sort of suspicious curiosity.

"Him, in his present state, in a glass building? Disaster." Jerome shook his head. "He'll be in the woods or in the caverns 'neath the manor, waiting for that fool woman he got himself entangled with. That Rose." His dark eyes turned toward the sky. "Certain times of the year, when certain stars come out, he goes back to his old self."

"His old self?" I heard the shriek from behind me. I turned in shock, and saw Rideaux looking at me apologetically as Rose stood beside her in the doorway. "Explain your words, flower man," Rose demanded, striding into the greenhouse as if it had been built for her.

"Don't know anything about constellations or which," Jerome muttered. "Just that it happens."

"In winter, yes?" Rose looked at him intensely.

"…hm." Jerome looked away.

"Whatever. I'm going to him." She looked at me. "Rabbit, you can't stay here. It's not safe and it certainly isn't good for the family dynamic." Then she swept out of the building, all swirling skirts and fluttering snowflakes.

…

I stared in shock at the place where the only parent I had ever known had once stood.

"Must I…" I turned to Jerome. "…leave?" I looked at Rideaux pleadingly.

"That woman is a curse on our master, but she is the lady of the house, and she is an authority," she said softly. "No Christian soul would have you go alone, though, so I am sure we can spare a horse. Can't we?" Jerome stared at her.

"You are going to _listen to that woman?_" Jerome said hoarsely. Rideaux shrugged. "Then I am quitting this place, these stupid foreign flowers, and that horrible wench. I have a horse of my own, and until I have paid my debt to the beast, I will care for his ward." He took my arm and, as I had no valid objection, I followed.


	9. Never Been Out in the World

The sun was as golden and cold as decorations in a nearly empty house. Having seen one for the first time, I regretted the fact that I would never see such finery again.

"So you've never been out," Jerome muttered, trying to make polite conversation. "In the world, that is."

"Never been out in the world," I replied, smiling at the poetic phrase. I recognized the cawing of the crows as they fluttered up, disturbed by the horse's stamping.

"It's not the best time of year for venturing," Jerome speculated, looking around at the frosted-over branches. "Summer would have been better."

"People are more suspicious in summer," I recited. "They might think we're wandering fairies come to take their children and whatnot. And in winter it's too cold. That's why I've never been out."

"I cannot stand that woman," Jerome growled. "She's got thorns growing out of her where kindness should be. I would prefer if you did not speak like her in my company." I puzzled over this. _In his company._ Was I in his company? Were we together? _Together _together? I sighed, knowing it was likely I would find out by nightfall.

"If I am in your company as an equal, I will say what I please," I said finally. "…but if I am your companion, I will respect your wishes," I added quickly; I'd only ever had experience with people…with men…who wanted me to do what they said without question. Perched as I was behind him on his own horse, I was in no position to stand opposite him.

"If you're my…what…" he blustered, turning to look back at me. "What sort of... You earn respect through respect; if you want it, just… I don't…" He sighed, exasperated. "I can't parent you for however many years in a single conversation," he said finally. "Just…Let's not talk."

"Seventeen," I announced, before realizing I was supposed to be quiet. "Sorry, I…" It was getting darker, and the small black rabbit inside the sleeve of my fur coat was the only comfort I had against the loneliness of his silence.

"We're nearing an inn I know," he said comfortingly. "We can stay there or go tomorrow…you can decide in the morning." I thought on this.

"Surely you must have somewhere to go," I muttered inquiringly. "Some family?"

"None," he replied. "We'll go where you want. There are places I know I can tell you about to help you decide…for example, I know a duke's advisor not far from here, and there is a slightly inhabited forest where you might find friends." Unsure of what he meant, I allowed myself to drift off, leaning my head on his shoulder.


End file.
